Affairs of the Inanimate
by Angrybee
Summary: The lives of Gravitation characters as seen by those closest to them. (Rated for Language and Sexual Innuendo.)
1. Chapter 1: Imploring Sensei

DISCLAIMER: Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami. This is merely a work of fanfiction, and was not created for profit.

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**Affairs of the Inanimate**  
  
_Part One: Imploring Sensei_

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"Oh yes, you great fuming God of Lust and Literature, give it to me. Give it to me again, just like you did last time! I need your touch, and I need it now. Caress me gently, strike me madly, just do it! DO it!"  
  
But, he doesn't. Sensei just sits there, staring at that picture, letting the ash on his cigarette slowly wilt. I wish he wouldn't smoke. It gets all over me. It makes me feel impossibly dirty.   
  
But then, Sensei is a dirty, dirty man. Oh, you should see the naughty things that come out of this man's mind. His words, his hidden thoughts, they'd make angels tremble and whores weep. Whore. Perhaps that is what I am. For, what is a whore but a receptacle, a vehicle into which lust is transmitted?  
  
"Ah, come, come, Sensei, can't I tempt you, not even a little? Let's try some of your favorite words. 'Helpless'. You like that one, it's good for setting up things which need to be rescued. 'Hedonistic'. Always yummy, ne? 'Hurry'. Oh, perhaps I like that one more than you do. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. We have a deadline, you know?"  
  
But, Sensei just hangs his head, letting his blonde hair sweep into his eyes. Damn that picture. It always snaps him right out of the mood. And yet, I do not hate that photograph anywhere as much as I hate the Brat. That obnoxious little runt. He's always interrupting us right as Sensei is stroking me, filling me with the purest love imaginable. Purely dirty. That's how they like it, isn't it, Sensei? Isn't that what you always say? A little naughty with the nuance? A little forbidden with the flights of fancy? Come on, come on, show me again.  
  
Finally, finally, Sensei opens the drawer up and slips the picture inside. I'm so excited. He's ready now, a few more drags on his cigarette, a swig from his can of beer, and we'll be together again. Joined more fully than any mortal could imagine.  
  
"Let me know you, Sensei. You can tell all your secrets to me, you always do. And, you'll feel so much better afterwards. Don't you always feel better after you pour out mind, soul, and body into your little Seiko? Yes. Can't you feel it, the tension in the air, the vibration of your own brilliance bounced back at you? Don't hesitate. Together we'll set the world on fire with lust!"  
  
He's ready now, and draws close. Sensei's fingertips brush over me, thoughtful, careful. This meticulous massage is merely our own special form of foreplay, our ritual, which we perform again and again. Hesitant, always, I'm still, yearning with anticipation, a virgin upon her wedding day. Sensei stares at me, mesmerized. Ah, this is our magical time....  
  
"Yukiiiiii?"  
  
No. No! Don't answer him, Sensei. Shhh. Shhhh. Pretend you can't hear him. You're with me, now. If you just ignore him, he'll go away, and we can be together, we can be...  
  
(That stupid Brat. How? How? Isn't he supposed to be gone on tour or something? Why must he torment Sensei so? Doesn't he see that Sensei only loves me? I'm the only one that he loves, that he can love. I'm the only one who gives him what he needs, release from regret and ready redemption. Me. Not you! So leave! Go away!)  
  
"Go away," Sensei growls darkly. Nonetheless, he removes his fingers from my body and turns his desk chair towards the door. No. No, Sensei. Pay attention to me! TO ME!  
  
"Yukiii, don't be that way. I bought Chinese takeout on the way home. Come eat, ne? You need a break."  
  
Slut. Stupid, genki, ugly little slut. You can't win Sensei's heart with food. He's no ordinary man. He's a god! A god of Lust and Literature. He doesn't need to subsist on such mundane things. He's...he's...  
  
He's standing up!   
  
No. No, Sensei, no. Leave the door closed. It's just us, me and you, forever and ever. You can't leave me.  
  
Don't you -dare- leave me.  
  
There's the little Brat now. Smiling, grinning, skipping into the room, bringing with him the foul stench of food. What's he doing? Don't attach yourself to Sensei's leg like that, you bitch! Get your grubby paws off of him!  
  
"Yukiii, look at the mess in here. Beer cans and cigarettes and..."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Sensei? Why are you patting his hair like that? Don't you have a heart? Don't you have any heart at all?  
  
"Ew. There's all sorts of gross stuff stuck in your keyboard, Yuki. How does this thing even work?"  
  
Get. Your. Damn. Hands. Off. Me.  
  
I don't understand. I'm the only one who can understand your complexities, Sensei. I take everything you have to give, and I turn it into magnificence. I...would...never...betray...you.  
  
"Hn. It doesn't matter. I bought a new keyboard yesterday. It's not like the damn things are made of gold. One gets gross, and you just toss it."  
  
Toss? Toss me out? But, I thought that...I thought...you and I, Sensei...  
  
I thought we had something -special-.  
  
"You gonna throw me in the trash when I get old and gross, Yuki?" the Brat asks, yanking me violently from my resting place.  
  
The last thing I hear, before my world goes dim, before Sensei leaves me forever, is his voice say...  
  
"Toss you out? No. That would be cruel....to the trashcan."

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Thanks for reading! I have 2-3 more short little chapters like this one planned, so I hope you will stay tuned! 


	2. Chapter 2: Love and Peace

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**   
  
Part 2: Love and Peace**

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There's just somethin' about my Boss. You can't say no to him. Nope,  
surely can't. He's got machismo. Charisma. Chutzpah. The man has balls  
that would frighten a charging moose. Seriously. He's a fuckin' force of  
nature.  
  
But, it ain't like you're thinkin'. My Boss doesn't throw his weight  
around lightly, oh hell no. And he has a soft side, too. You know,  
sensitive and crap. Uh... Well... Uh, I can't think of any examples off  
the top of my head, but he's not a bastard or nothin'.  
  
Oh wait. He takes care of the Pink Haired Kid. I mean, that's sweet,  
ain't it? I like the Kid, personally. Nice boy. Good singin' voice, you  
know? Not exactly my kind of music, I'm more of the Johnny Cash type.  
But hey...to each their own.  
  
And I don't care if the Kid is...  
  
Well, he's...  
  
How do I put this nicely and all sensitive-like?  
  
The boy's a card-carrying member of the Girlie Brigade. Eh? He's a  
Rainbow Ranger. He's a bit limp in the wrist, you know? What do they  
call them these days, now that you can't use the "F" word anymore? Gay.  
Yeah. He's one of them gays.  
  
Not that there is anything wrong with it. I ain't got a problem with it.  
You got a problem with it? I mean, 'cause if you do, we can go... Right  
here, let's go. I can take you. You don't look so big.  
  
Oh. You don't mind 'bout them gays? Alright.  
  
So, there's the Boss, and there's the Kid. Sure, there's lots of other  
people around, too. The Boss gotsta take care of 'em all. And does  
anyone ever thank him? Hell no. It's a thankless job being the Boss. I  
gotta guess that it's a lonesome job being the Boss, too, but I ain't ever  
heard him complain, nope, not once.  
  
Well, at least he's got me, right? 'Cause when the job's being thankless,  
and the world of music looks like it's heading to another clusterfuck, I  
always come to the rescue.  
  
Like now.  
  
"Boss? You want I should put the hurt on him?"  
  
But, the Boss, he don't say -shit-. Ya see, he's -occupied-. Ayup.  
Completely occupied. Cause he's holding Seguchi Tohma up by the throat.  
  
The Boss...has a boss...but, he don't let it get to him. He's always done  
things -his- way. Far as I can tell, Seguchi's a pretty clever guy. You  
gotta be, to get ahead in the music business. But this time...this time  
he's gone too far. And 'parently, the Boss ain't none too pleased 'bout  
it.  
  
Somehow, I know, this is all about the Pink Haired Kid.  
  
It always seems to be, these days.  
  
"I trust you and follow you in all things," the Boss says, "Except for  
this. I don't care how much it hurts you to see Shuichi with Yuki Eiri,  
you will never, ever, threaten the boy in my presence. And if I so much  
as hear that you've even merely -insinuated- that any harm will come to  
him..."  
  
Seguchi smiles a curt little smile, which is actually pretty amazing  
considering the grip the Boss has on his neck. The wheels are already  
turnin' in his mind, you can tell. He's already tryin' to figure out how  
to make a promise to the Boss, and then to slide around it. He's a  
slippery fucker. I half expect him to turn into a snake and slither away.  
  
"You can...easily...be replaced..." Seguchi says as the Boss loosens his  
grip. "There's a hundred, no, a thousand people in this city alone who  
would clamor for your job."  
  
The Boss thinks about this for a while, and grins. "You wouldn't fire me,  
Seguchi. There aren't many things you're afraid of, I know. But, you  
know what, I think you -are- afraid of one thing...you're afraid of the  
secrets of NG being exposed...or more precisely...the secrets of Seguchi  
Tohma. Maybe I don't know them now, but tell me, Tohma, do you want to  
chance it? Do you want to gamble that I can't find out? Do you want  
to roll the dice and hope to hell your number doesn't come up?"  
  
The Boss leans in close, and I can feel my nose against Seguchi's jaw.  
I've never heard the Boss sound so dark. He must really care for the Pink  
Haired Kid. Sometimes, I think the Boss is just one...big...softy. Ayup.  
  
"Or would you prefer to worry constantly about opening a newspaper one  
morning and reading the BIG NEWS about Seguchi Tohma with the rest of  
Tokyo?"  
  
Ew gross. Sweat. I got fucking Seguchi Tohma's sweat all dripping down  
me. C'mon Boss, you don't pay me enough to put up with this sort of  
degradation. Come to think of it, you don't fuckin' pay me...at all.  
What the fuck is THAT about?  
  
Suddenly, I'm flying through the air, knocked out of the Boss' hand with a  
slap. I know. Yeah, I know that he coulda held onto me. But, it ain't  
like he hates Seguchi or nothing. He don't want to hurt nobody, my Boss.  
  
He's a soldier for Peace.  
  
And if you tell me that's some sort of damn oxymoron, well, you can shove  
a bullet in your ear.  
  
He's a goddamn softy, just tryin' to make the world a better place for  
people who can't stand up for themselves yet. Like that scrawny Pink  
Haired Kid.  
  
That Kid's like a shot from a cannon, aimed at Love.  
  
That's what we got here at NG.  
  
The war for Love and Peace on a battleground of Song.  
  
So, yeah, this is what I'm all deeply contemplatin' as the Boss storms out  
of the room, leavin' me behind on the floor. Shit. Who knew I meant so  
little? Fuckin' gonna have to have a few words with him about that  
later.  
  
Seguchi stands there for a few minutes, rubbing his neck, but saying  
nothing at all. Who woulda thought that someone who looks so fuckin'  
pansy could be such a sinister wheeler-and-dealer? Not me.  
  
That's when Seguchi comes over and picks me up. Hell. He's got a firmer  
grip than I ever expected. And he ain't holdin' me out in front of him  
like I was some piece of trash or nothin', either. As we leave his  
office, I don't got any clue where we're going. Nope, not a fuckin' clue.  
  
Well hell, the elevator music's the Pink Haired Kid's first single. I  
could just shoot off a few rounds in celebration. Ejaculate hot metal in  
glee. I sure do like that Pink Haired Kid. Glad things are lookin' up  
for him.  
  
We end up on the goddamn roof, and it's so fucking cold I gotta fear my  
barrel will crack. But, ain't nothing of the sort happening. Seguchi and  
I walk over to the ledge, and I have expect him to toss me off the side of  
the building, but instead he raises me and looks down the sight.  
  
Fucking hell. It's the parking lot.  
  
And fucking hell...there's the Boss walking to his car, his yellow pony  
tail swishing back and forth.  
  
Fuck, Seguchi, don't turn me against the Boss! I ain't got no quarrel  
with the man. He's always treated me right, cleanin' me, never usin' me  
'cept for a good cause. Alright, maybe a few extra shots here and there  
to get someone's ass in gear, but shit... I don't want to fuckin' betray  
the man.  
  
Not my Boss. The damn softy.  
  
I ain't the type to blink when my trigger is squeezed. Hell no, I keep my  
sights right on target and do my job, but this time, this time I just  
can't...I don't even want to look...  
  
BANG!  
  
Shit.  
  
As the smoke wafts from my barrel, disappearing into the cold winter  
night, my world slowly becomes clear. Down below, in the parking lot, the  
Boss ain't moving a muscle. Not a goddamn muscle.  
  
It's like one of those movies with CGI "bullet time". Everything is in  
slow motion. But, then I see it... The Boss tilts his head upwards, and  
looks at me...looks at us.  
  
Fuck me, he ain't shot at all.  
  
And I don't know what passes between them, in that long gaze between  
Seguchi and my Boss. I've heard a lot about what happens when two men  
lock eyes on the field of battle. Maybe they're coming to some sort of  
silent agreement. Maybe...just maybe...  
  
Seguchi is tryin' to let my Boss know, that he, too, is a soldier for  
Love and Peace...  
  
Maybe it's just a different sort of Love and Peace than the Boss and the  
Pink Haired Kid want. Maybe someone, a long time ago, shot a bullet  
into the heart of Seguchi Tohma. And ever since that day, he's been  
dragging himself across the battlefield of Song by his bare fingernails,  
wounded, bleeding, dying inside, but unable to give up. Maybe he just  
can't let go of the vision...the thought...that someone special is  
waiting for him, if only he can survive the war.  
  
"Eiri-san..." Seguchi whispers.  
  
War changes a man.  
  
Maybe the war changed Seguchi Tohma.  
  
How the fuck should I know? I'm only a gun. I ain't supposed to be  
thinkin' deep thoughts like this. 'Lock and load', that's my motto.  
  
Still, I gotta say, if I could laugh, I'd be busting a gut right about  
now. Finally, I see what Seguchi shot. He put a hole in the front window  
of the Boss' car.  
  
Well, one good threat deserves another, I guess.  
  
Who would have known that Seguchi Tohma was such a fuckin' crack shot?  
  
As Seguchi and I turn to head back inside, I hear him chuckle, just a  
little. Maybe he is a bastard, but I think...maybe also...he's just a bit  
of a softy, somewhere deep...deep down inside. I think I'll stick with  
him for a while, and help him find himself again. Help him fend off the  
enemy forces as he makes his way across the Battlefield of Song.  
  
But, if I'm wrong about the Love in his heart...  
  
One day...  
  
I'll give him Peace, instead.

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Thanks for reading! Hope you will stay tuned for our next installment of  
Affairs of the Inanimate! 


	3. Chapter 3: If These Walls Could Talk

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Chapter 3: If These Walls Could Talk

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"Sailor Moon is on! Sailor Moon! Do you want to watch it? Let's watch Sailor Moon!"  
  
"Oh good heavens, would someone shut her up?" If Couch could yawn, she would. The Young Master had left that damn Television on again, and, of course, she had been babbling nonsensically all morning. None of them could understand the Young Master's fascination with Television. Electronics. Snort. Those ridiculous upstarts.  
  
"She can't help it, Couch-san, that's just the way she is, you know?" As always, Wall was the voice of reason in the room. The peacemaker. Plain, and calm and sturdy. But Couch and Door hardly ever paid her much attention.  
  
"Couch, darling," Door said, her old wood creaking haughtily, "You really have no one to blame but yourself. You must be losing your touch if you couldn't lure the Young Master to sleep -yet- again."  
  
"Door-san, must you taunt her?" Wall asked quietly. It seemed like they were in for yet another day of Door and Couch squabbling fruitlessly. Frankly, Wall would have almost rather listened to Television's strange, yet usually happy, noise.  
  
"And what comfort are you to the Young Master," Couch inquired of Door, her voice slightly tinged with traces of the Italian accent she'd had since the day she'd been constructed in Naples, "Coming in. Going out. Your knob has had more turns than a third-rate pachinko parlor hostess."  
  
"Why you little..."  
  
"Snack, snack, snack! Cheesy-cheese is the snack you can spray!"  
  
"Shut UP!" The fact that both Couch and Door yelled at Television at the same time would only make them -madder-. They -hated- to agree on -anything-, even if it was how much they both despised Television.  
  
"Yes, well," Door's voice just became higher and higher as she took to being increasingly annoyed at Couch, "Who has a -stained- cushion? Such a mark of shame. I can't believe that my innocence and honor is being questioned by a piece of dirty, -foreign-, furniture."  
  
Couch could only gasp at the insult.  
  
"Please don't speak of it, Door-san," Wall whispered, "A mark of love should not be termed a 'stain'."  
  
There was silence in the room for some time as Couch and Door seethed. Wall knew the peace would only be temporary. They were merely coming up with other insults to toss at one another. But, Wall was worried for other reasons.  
  
It was true, the Young Master had not slept at all last night. In fact, he had cried for many hours, his tearstained face illuminated by Television's soft light. Couch truly had done her very best to lure the Young Master into sweet slumber, but had no success in doing so. She'd employed all of her best tricks, making her cushions softer, cradling the Young Master between her arms, absorbing his tears...  
  
But, the Young Master would only cry. His desperate sobbing punctuated occasionally with Yuki-sama's name...  
  
"Yuki..." he'd whisper, "Why must you be so cold?"  
  
They all cared, quite deeply, for the Young Master. He was a gentle lad, and they had done their best to make him feel welcome in Yuki-sama's home. And his voice, when they could coax him into singing, was one thing they could all...  
  
Even Door and Couch...  
  
Agree upon. It was beautiful, unreal. Door said it reminded her of the northern forests from whence her wood came. Couch said it transported her back to beautiful Italy. Television gurgled happily, comparing it to her favorite theme songs and advertisement jingles.  
  
And only sigh. The Young Master's voice made her paint curl in delight.  
  
Yes, their home had become much brighter, much less drab and dull, ever since the Young Master came to stay. Even Yuki-sama seemed to look a little less...  
  
The sadness in his eyes had lightened a shade or two, his voice had become a hue less sharp, since the Young Master arrived. Of this, they were -all- certain.  
  
Wall just wished she could do...something...anything at all...to help the Young Master. He had been so terribly upset.  
  
Of course, Couch could lure the Young Master to sleep. And Television entertained him and drew his mind away from his troubles with her antics. Even Door...even Door was there to let him escape when he could take no more.  
  
But Wall...Wall had never been able to do anything at all.  
  
She wanted only to repay the Young Master for all he had done. For softening Yuki-sama's eyes...for brightening up the room with his mere presence...  
  
For the beautiful songs which had made them all feel so carefree...  
  
"Stain Away! Rid yourself of pesky stains! Just one squirt and you can see the Active Bubbles WORKING!"  
  
"Oh my God," Couch exclaimed, "Is that Idiot Box -mocking- me?"  
  
Door could only break into hysterics, horribly glad to have an ally for once. "Just one squirt was what got Couch messy in the -first- place, Television, -darling-."  
  
Wall kept silent. Door and Couch were always -much- more agitated after a night of watching the Young Master cry. It would be difficult to bring the room to any sort of peace today.  
  
"Well," Couch said in a huff, "At least -I- wasn't the one who let Tatsuha-san inside Yuki-sama's house all those times. Such a terrible mess he made. Who do we have to blame for that, hmmm, Door, love?"  
  
"It is not my fault that I am oft left unlocked."  
  
"Unlocked? As if! Your locks were -picked-!"  
  
Even Television gasped at that dig. Well, she gasped, and then immediately started rambling. "Protect yourself and your family from Home Invasion with the new Highlight Security Monitor!"  
  
"Ladies, ladies," Wall whispered frantically, "Can't we just...turn our attention towards improving the situation. I feel so horrible for the Young Master. Isn't there -anything- we can do?"  
  
Door clicked her lock a bit and said in a clipped tone, "Nothing -you- can do, Wall-flower. Just stand there quietly and hold up the roof, as you always do."  
  
"Door-san..."  
  
"Don't taunt Wall," Couch added with a short sigh, "She can't help being utterly useless. It's in her nature to merely observe."  
  
"Couch-san...you too?"  
  
Wall felt so deeply hurt, that if she had the capacity to do so, she would have cried. She nursed her wounds by clinging to the solitary painting hanging on her left side. At least she could help brighten up the room -that- way. At least...maybe...  
  
"Hush you biddies," Door hissed, "And you too, you foul electronic contraption. The Young Master is arriving!"  
  
Television, however, did -not- decrease her volume, but merely began to show one of the Young Master's favorite anime shows. Stupid as she was, she always tried her hardest to bring the Young Master cheer.  
  
"How does he look, Door-san?" Wall asked, the previous insults already forgotten. It was time for them to go to work, to do their best...for the Young Master's sake.  
  
"Worn out. Tired. Completely sluggish and...ah..." Door's handle turned and she was pushed open slightly. The Young Master slipped inside, his head hung, pink hair falling in his face. A quiet, "Tadaima," dribbled from his lips as he slipped off his shoes.  
  
"The poor thing..." Wall whispered.  
  
"Well, at least he came home." Door was closed once more, and the Young Master took to leaning against her for support. "Yuki-sama does get so very upset when he stays out late, as you know. I don't know if I could take two morose people..."  
  
Just then, their Master, Yuki Eiri, appeared in the doorway leading to the hall. He, too, appeared upset, though only the most experienced objects in the room could ever detect the tiny changes. His hair had become noticeably unkempt, and more than the usual amount of buttons were undone at the top of his shirt. And, even in Television's muted glow, they could all see the faint circles under his eyes.  
  
"Where have you been, baka?" Yuki-sama asked as he crossed the room, "You left the TV on all day!"  
  
"You could have just turned it off!" The Young Master looked up defiantly for a second and then hung his head once more, "Sorry Yuki..."  
  
"It eats up electricity."  
  
The Young Master chewed on his bottom lip and looked to the side, his face scrunched up as if trying not to cry. "No...I...I mean I am sorry about...last night."  
  
At that moment, Yuki-sama finally reached the Young Master. One hand outstretched slowly to caress the side of the smaller man's face. His voice, still harsh and unyielding, said, "You were an idiot, and you won't do it again."  
  
"I was an idiot," the Young Master echoed, the mere touch of his lover's hand apparently already warming his skin enough to make his mind fuzzy. "And I won't do it again, I promise! Please say you forgive me...please...Yuki..."  
  
"Hn. Forgiveness...is a stupid concept, in general..."  
  
Door squeaked softly as the Young Master was pulled away, caught up into Yuki-sama's arms. They all watched as gentle kisses were trailed up the Young Master's neck, kisses which became increasingly passionate once one pair of lips found the other.  
  
"They belong together."  
  
Strangely enough, this simple statement had come from the one object in the room no one expected...Television.  
  
"My goodness," Couch said, "You made -sense-, for once!"  
  
Television chuckled softly and began to show a program about ballroom dancing. "When everything in the world is irrational and broken, the language of love will be the only thing that ever makes sense. Even we electronics know -that-, Couch-san."  
  
Couch was flabbergasted. Door was quite amused.  
  
And Wall...  
  
Was occupied.  
  
"Yuki..." Shuichi squeaked as the author pressed him against the wall, "Yuki, I'm so happy we made up... I can't stand it when you're cold to me."  
  
Yuki snorted and grabbed Shuichi's thighs to wrap Shuichi's legs around his waist, "We haven't made up -yet-, baka."  
  
(And if Wall could have smiled, she would. Neither Door, nor Couch, nor even Television could have brought Yuki-sama and the Young Master together as Wall did on that day.  
  
And never, ever, ever anyone call her -useless-.)

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Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. This one is dedicated to Aira for the idea, and all of my peeps over at Gravilection. You should be drinking! 


	4. Chapter 4: Needle and the Clockwork Boy

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Chapter 4: Needle and the Clockwork Boy

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Once upon a time, there was a fairy. A good fairy. Not one of the bad fairies, oh no, not the sort who trick you while you are at the well, and then steal away your baby brother. A very good fairy. She lived in the Land Beyond The Clouds with all her fairy brothers and sisters. They slept on beds of white wispy cirrus, and played hide-and-go-seek among the cumulonimbus. They ate only strips of dried sunlight, and clothed themselves in the hides of passing zephyrs.  
  
Now, every fairy has their use, their special purpose. Every fairy has a task to which they, alone, are suited. And this one, she was named Needle, for she could sew anything one might request. It was Needle, herself, who had sewn the wondrous ball gown for Cinderella. She created the flowing robes of emperors, and the silken kimonos of a thousand princesses. Some say that she had even sewn the great black veil of the Goddess Moon, so that she might tease her lover the Sea God with different glimpses of her face each day of the month.  
  
Needle had brought wonderful beauty to the land. And no creature who ever wore one of her creations was unhappy. Never.  
  
Now, it came to pass that around the time that Man learned to fly in great roaring machines of metal and smoke, The Land Beyond The Clouds was conquered by the Dragon King, Ferocious Black. An incredible beast with silver horns and breath of fire, the Dragon King had lived for centuries. He had conquered the forests of the Nymphs, and the great seas of Mermaids. The Dragon King had conquered all the magical creatures, from fairy to gnome, but still he was unhappy.  
  
For, you see, the Dragon King Ferocious Black...was blind. He could see no beauty in the world, and because of this, his heart had turned to coal. With incredible cruelty, he ruled over the Magical Lands. He ordered Nymphs to be stabbed to death with stakes made from the very trees they loved. He commanded Mermaids to be transplanted into pools of tar, where their golden fins would grow heavy...and pull them into the depths...to drown in darkness.  
  
And, Ferocious Black took particular delight in pulling the pretty pink wings off of Fairies.  
  
Isn't that mean?  
  
Things went on like this for a long time, until one day, it came to be the Dragon King's 500th birthday. The edict went out to each corner of the Magical Lands that every single subject was to come and present the Dragon King with a present within a moon's time. Those who did not...would be put to death. However, the subject who presented the King with the most beautiful present...would be granted one wish. Anything within the King's power to give...would be given to that person.  
  
Needle knew that this was her chance. If she could present the King with the most beautiful present, she could ask him to free the Fairies. And then, once again, the Land Beyond The Clouds could live joyously, and without fear.  
  
Needle sent her brothers and sisters far and wide to gather what she would need. Blue Diamonds from the mines of the Elder Dwarves for the eyes. Honey from the Queen of the Bees to dye the skin. Petals from the Red Yara Flower (which grows only on ground walked upon by a dying unicorn) for the lips. And, the finest thread in all the land, spun from the dewy cobwebs of spiders to stitch it all together.  
  
Needle worked day and night, her pink fairy wings fluttering as fast as they could...as she flittered around her creation. It needed to be perfect, absolutely perfect.  
  
When she was done, Needle stepped back and asked her brothers and sisters, "Is he not the most magnificent creation I have ever made?"  
  
They were all in agreement. Her creation, tan and smooth, lean and delightful, was quite beautiful indeed. "But, Needle," they said, "Ferocious Black is blind! He will never see your creation. And if he can not see it, how can he fathom the beauty you have made?"  
  
Well, this was a perplexing question, indeed. Needle thought, and thought, and thought. The moon crept high into the sky as the days past. Soon, it would be the night of the New Moon...and Needle would have to present her gift, or be killed by Ferocious Black's Royal Guards.  
  
Needle left her hut and looked up into the sky. "Oh Great Goddess Moon," she cried, "How can I show the Dragon King the beauty of what I have made? What can I do?"  
  
"Moo," said a nearby air-cow. (Air cows, by the way, are not actually eaten by the fairies, but kept to mow down the clouds like lawnmowers. No one wants an unruly cloud!)  
  
"Sssessss..." said the wind.  
  
"Moo." "Sesss." "Mooooo." "Sesss."  
  
"You are a strange one, Oh Great Goddess Moon," replied Needle with a giggle, "But, as you bid, I will seek out the Muses and ask for their help." Needle turned to go back inside. But, before she did, she looked over her shoulder at the moon and asked, "One more thing, Great Goddess Moon... Do you still like the veil I sewed for you? I notice that on some nights, you don't wear it at all, and some nights, you only pull it up half way."  
  
But, the moon would only smile in response, and pulled a curtain of clouds between herself and Needle to hide.  
  
"Oh, you are a cheeky one!" Needle exclaimed, "Still in love with the Sea, are you? Don't worry. Next time I see him, I will give him your greetings."

* * *

And, in fact, Needle did as she said. For the next day, she traveled down to the Sea, and she told him of the Moon's lingering love.  
  
"Oh, Great Sea God, the Moon...she pines for you. Every day, she hopes that you look upon her beautiful face to view the love and light that shines only for you."  
  
Well, the Sea was so overjoyed to hear this, he immediately parted to let Needle walk across a dry path to the Island of the Muses.  
  
Once there, Needle went straight to the Palace to ask the Muses if they would help her with the gift. But, the Muses would hear nothing of it.  
  
"Why should we help you, silly little Fairy? You bring us no gifts, no offerings, no sacrifice. Be gone, little Fairy!"  
  
Needle went running from the Palace. How could she have forgotten to bring the Great Muses a gift? She sat down on the steps of the Palace and proceeded to weep loudly. She sobbed and sobbed as she clutched at her wispy hair. What was she to do?  
  
"Why do you cry, little Fairy?" A voice asked.  
  
Needle looked up to find a tall woman garbed all in black standing over her. The woman seemed to be shrouded in veils woven from sadness, and smelled primarily of tears tinged with mold.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"I am Tragedy, the Muse," the woman replied as she sat down beside the tiny fairy.  
  
"But, I was in the Palace just now, with all the Muses, and you were not among them!"  
  
"It is true." Tragedy lifted an end of her long veil and gingerly handed it to the small fairy so she could dry her tears. "My sisters banished me from the Palace long ago. I bring only tears and sadness, and they believed it unfitting for a Muse. Now...tell me...why do you cry?"  
  
So, Needle told Tragedy her story, and the Muse of Tears found herself quite moved. "I will help you, little Fairy."  
  
"But, I did not bring you a gift!"  
  
"Ah," said Tragedy, holding up her veil to show Needle the wet spot, "But you have already given me your tears. That is gift enough."  
  
That night, the Moon lay low on the waters, flirting with her lover once again. As darkness took hold of the island, Tragedy snuck into the Palace. She crept down the ornate hallway, trying the doors of each of her sisters, and finding them each locked. Finally, she came to the very last one, and to her surprise, it was open.  
  
The door belonged of the youngest sister, Song.  
  
Tragedy tiptoed inside and put her hand over Song's mouth...and stole her voice.  
  
She had nowhere to put it, however, so she wrapped it up in one of her veils, where it was absorbed along with all the many tears she had dried through the ages. And, when she returned to Needle, this is what she gave to the little Fairy, along with her blessings...that it would help the Dragon King to see the beauty of the world.

* * *

On the day he was to receive his gifts, the Dragon King sat upon a throne of gold, a dozen or so dragonet advisors bustling around him, arranging things. Dragonet advisors like to arrange things, you see, and then rearrange them yet again. The primary purpose of an advisor of this sort is to look busy and important...rather than to actually –advise-.  
  
And then the Magical Creatures came, one by one, to present their gifts. The Nymph Leafwind, who had once charmed the Maharajah with her sultry dance, spun and writhed for the Dragon King. The entire court was impressed with the exotic seductiveness of her movements, and more than one called out a marriage proposal when she finished...  
  
But, the blind Dragon King was not impressed.  
  
The Mermaids brought beautiful cloaks speckled with thousands upon thousands of tiny pearls. But, the Dragon King found them bumpy, and not to mention...too heavy to wear.  
  
The Banshees sent howling screams of delight, in celebration of the birth of the Dragon King. But, frankly, absolutely –no one- found these beautiful, and they were subsequently taken out back and fed to the pigs.  
  
"Who is next?" The Dragon King asked.  
  
A dragonet advisor ushered a tiny fairy into the grand throne room and announced, "Needle the Sewing Fairy, your Majesty!"  
  
"And what have you for me, little Fairy?"  
  
Needle lifted into the air and spun around three times, "Your Majesty, I present to you my creation... I call him...Ryuichi!"  
  
Into the hall walked the clockwork boy that Needle had made with her thread and cloth, a life-sized doll with blue diamond eyes, flower lips, and honeyed skin. Everyone was astonished. It looked just like a man! A very beautiful man, but a man nonetheless.  
  
Yes. The courtesans all gasped, the jaws of the dragonet advisors dropped (and most of them forgot for quite a few minutes to look quite as busy as they should have).  
  
Needle's wings came to a stop as she perched upon Ryuichi's shoulder. She pointed at the Dragon King and commanded, "Sing, Ryuichi!"  
  
And sing he did. Ryuichi's mouth opened, and a stream of deeply sad notes, as cutting and fine as glass, floated out of his throat to fill the throne room. No one who heard the song remained unaffected. Many onlookers that day fell to their knees and wept openly, for it was truly, the most eloquently wistful song they had ever heard.  
  
For Needle the Sewing Fairy had taken the veil of tears Tragedy had used to absorb Song's voice, and sewn it into Ryuichi's throat. And sound that passed through his lips was fated to bring tears to the eyes of whoever heard it.  
  
At that moment, the Dragon King whispered, "It's so...shiny! I can see it, glistening in the distance, shimmering and bright! His voice, it shines for me!"  
  
But, what the Dragon King saw wasn't Ryuichi's voice. In fact, what he was seeing...  
  
Were his own tears.  
  
No longer was the Dragon King to be blind to the beauty and majesty of the world. Needle's creation, Ryuichi's song, had lifted the darkness from his eyes, and allowed him to once again see.  
  
In an instant, the Dragon King understood that the song was made from the tears of all the Magical Creatures he had imprisoned, tortured, and killed. It was the song of his own cruelty, his own folly. It was the song of the tragedy he, himself, had made.  
  
That day, the Dragon King freed not only the Fairies, but all the Magical Creatures.  
  
Ryuichi came to live with Ferocious Black in his grand palace, and Needle returned home to her brothers and sisters.  
  
The Lands of the Magical Creatures became peaceful and content under the rule of the now -Benevolent- Dragon King, Ferocious Black.  
  
And they lived happily ever after...  
  
For a while.

* * *

It came to pass one day, in the Land Beyond the Clouds, that a Royal Doctor arrived at the house of Needle the Sewing Fairy.  
  
"You must come quickly," he said, grabbing the little fairy exactly where she did not want to be grabbed...by her long pink wings... "A terrible thing has happened!"  
  
"What is it? What what?"  
  
"It's the Dragon King! You must undo what you have done!"  
  
All the little fairies looked at each other, and then they looked at Needle. And Needle looked at the Royal Doctor. Because, really, they needed much more of an explanation than –that-.  
  
"Day and night, night and day, Ferocious Black does nothing but lay in his garden, listening to Ryuichi sing. He will not eat or drink. He will not sleep. He sees no one. He has grown thin and sickly. But, he refuses to let his doctors look at him. Ryuichi's song is the only thing he wants. He is obsessed. Surely our now benevolent and beloved King will soon die if something is not done!"  
  
"I will come!" And so, the Sewing Fairy packed her needle and thread and flew directly to the Royal Palace.  
  
She found the scene to be exactly as the Royal Doctor had described. Ferocious Black lay among great rosebushes, his tail curled around the clockwork boy, Ryuichi. The great dragon had become so thin and weak, that he could do little more than whisper his repeated command:  
  
"Sing Ryuichi. Sing for me, Ryuichi!"  
  
For, the Dragon King's heart had turned from coal...to ice. With every song, he grew more despondent, more alone. And yet, he was addicted to the beautiful illusions Ryuichi wove into his songs. Illusions of love and sorrow, of joy and tragedy. He desperately wanted someone...anyone...to love him the way the figures in Ryuichi's songs loved one another. When each song ended, he found himself hopeless and lost. Only by hearing another song could his heart be warmed once more.  
  
"This is horrible!" Needle whispered as she perched on Ryuichi's shoulder and searched his face. But, of course, Ryuichi didn't answer her, for he was only a clockwork boy and knew nothing of the world beyond Song. Ryuichi merely gazed quietly at the Dragon King, and waited to be commanded, once again, to sing. Ryuichi's whole world was comprised merely of what the Dragon King wanted, what would make him happy. How could a clockwork boy understand that the Dragon King was dying of melancholy induced by the songs Ryuichi sang?  
  
Needle flew over to the Dragon King and yelled at him as loud as she could (which isn't very loud, considering she was a very –small- fairy), "You must stop! Think of your people! Your people who need you...who love you! You must help yourself! These are only songs! SONGS ARE NOT REAL!!!"  
  
Ferocious Black would hear nothing of the sort. He batted at the small, annoying, fairy with his large claws as he shouted, "Sing! Sing for me, Ryuichi!"  
  
Needle picked herself up from where she had landed in a rose, and stomped her foot, causing several pink petals to dislodge and float to the ground. "You are behaving horribly! Why can't you ever be happy with what you –have- instead of chasing after shadows and sparkles! There are so many people who love you... All of the Magical Creatures adore you now! Why do you turn away to try to find something which DOES NOT EXIST?"  
  
"I must have more songs!"  
  
"No!" Needle said, "If you will not listen to reason...I...I'll...take away his voice!"  
  
Needle flew as fast as her little pink wings would take her towards Ryuichi. She wielded her needle like a sword, fully intent on slicing open his throat. Seeing what she intended on doing, Ferocious Black caught the little Sewing Fairy in his claws.  
  
"No one disobeys Ferocious Black!"  
  
With that, the Dragon King's eyes, full of flame and anger, grew wide. Without thinking, he did the most horrible thing someone can do to a fairy. He pulled off Needle's wings.  
  
Pluck. Pluck.  
  
Needle screamed in pain as tiny rivulets of blood poured down her back. The Dragon King lifted the tiny fairy to eye level and began to laugh.  
  
A fairy without her wings, of course, will soon die. In retaliation, the Sewing Fairy leapt from Ferocious Black's mighty hand, her needle held aloft....  
  
And cut out his eyes.  
  
Needle fell to the ground with a "thunk" as Ferocious Black clawed helplessly at his face. "You wanted to see beauty...so I showed you beauty. But, you couldn't appreciate what you had seen. You were gluttonous, wanting more and more, wanting...what wasn't even real. You don't understand the world at all," Needle said, looking up at the dragon as she crawled away from him on her hands and knees. "You do not deserve to look upon the world until you learn...  
  
The beautiful illusion you have always chased is no more than a fairy tale."  
  
With her dying movements, Needle grabbed her broken wings and began to sew. She took all the fallen pink rose petals that she found around her and wove them into cloth, and used the veins from her own shimmering wings as the thread. Inside her creation, she placed one of the Dragon King's eyes, and then beckoned Ryuichi to join her on the ground of the garden.  
  
As Ryuichi knelt beside his dying creator, she handed him her final work: a fluffy pink bunny, with ears of rose petals, and a heart made from a Dragon's eye. "Take this to the World Below, my little Clockwork Boy. Go to the land of Men and see all that you can see. Sing for them. Love them. Spread beauty in your wake, and magnificence with your every step. When your journey is finished, you will be a king mightier than Ferocious Black could ever have imagined himself to be. He will see your deeds, for his eye will travel with you. And, if you are successful, he will learn that you don't need to chase fairy tales...to be happy."  
  
Soon after she said this, Needle the Sewing Fairy died. Her friend, the Moon lifted her up, and placed her in the sky. And sometimes, if you look –very-, -very-, -very- close, sometimes you can see a flash of her needle as she sews in the night. Some people call them "Shooting Stars"....  
  
But...you and I...we know better, don't we?

* * *

"What –are- you doing down there?" Noriko asked us, as she lifted up the tablecloth to peek underneath.  
  
"Kumagoro is telling me a story!" Ryuichi replied, tilting his head to an impossible angle to peer back at the purple haired woman. "It's a really good one about fairies and dragons and cows! Wanna hear it, na no da?"  
  
I rolled my eyes. All of them. The fake ones on my head and the dragon one locked inside this ridiculous bunny costume. I wasn't just telling him –a- story, I was telling him –the- story. Our story. But, he always forgets. What can you do? Needle didn't give him any brains, none at all. He's just my clockwork boy, made to sing, and little more.  
  
Noriko let the tablecloth drop back on top of us. "No. I still have to fix your shirt. Thank god I have sewing skills or you'd have gone around half your life in rags. I don't even know how you tore this!" Noriko held up the shirt and looked at the overhead light through the tear in the sleeve. With a tremendous sigh, she folded the garment back into her lap and pulled the needle from where she had secured it in her lapel. "You're always falling apart at the seams, Ryuichi. I just don't understand it."  
  
"And you always sew me back up. Right, Noriko-chan? Make me pika pika, good as new?"  
  
"Well, someone has to do it."  
  
Ryuichi peeked both of our heads out from underneath the table. "I really like your costume, Noriko-chan. You look just like a fairy princess with those big pink wings."  
  
Noriko looked up from her sewing and smiled at us. She shook her head and poked her needle back into Ryuichi's shirt. "Why didn't you wear a costume, Ryuichi? I thought you liked dressing up."  
  
"I do. I have my costume on. I came as a –real- boy, na no da. And Kumagoro is dressed up as a bunny!"  
  
Noriko laughed. "Sometimes, Ryuichi, you're too weird even for me."  
  
Right then the door swung open and Mr. K, who happened to be dressed as some sort of war general, strode inside. "Ryuichi! So this is where you ran off to..."  
  
"He tore his shirt," Noriko explained as she tied off the seam. "There. It's fixed for now. Come out and put it on, Ryuichi."  
  
Ryuichi climbed out from underneath the table and handed me to Mr. K while he shimmied back into his shirt. He hopped from right to left, doing a saucy little dance move to test out the shirt, and then threw his arms around Noriko in thanks. With a spin, he plucked me out of Mr. K's arms and then ran down the hall.  
  
Ugh. I wish he wouldn't bounce so much when he runs. It really jostles me. I'm a very delicate creation, made of fairy wings and rose petals and a dragon's eye.  
  
Apparently, it is Tohma's birthday, and –someone- planned a costume party. (I'm not blaming Ryuichi, even though it is –his- fault.) And, apparently, Ryuichi is going to sing.  
  
I still like it when Ryuichi sings. But, I've learned to like other things, too. I like balloons, especially letting them go. Humans don't know where balloons go, but I do. They go to the Land Beyond the Clouds, taking our hopes and dreams to the fairies there. I keep telling Ryuichi to get me a balloon, so I can let Needle know that I've seen enough. She can bring me home now. Really. But, he won't. He says he likes it here, and he wants to stay for a while.  
  
Well, I like other things, too. I like jokes. And playing. Laughter. And Ryuichi's friends. They are all nice people, really, even if some of them have –problems-. I mean even bigger problems than I ever had. (And I drowned Mermaids as a pastime.)  
  
Especially Tohma. He has –lots- of problems.  
  
"Tohma! You have a problem, na no da!" Ryuichi said as he bunnyhopped over to the birthday boy, who was standing on the balcony, looking out at the garden "One of your horns is falling down."  
  
Ryuichi reached up and adjusted the costume horns on top of Tohma's head. "Thank you, Ryuichi-san. I'd be so lost without you."  
  
"That's what I'm here for!" Ryuichi smiled his most genuine and unassuming smile. Compared to it, Tohma's smile looks like a paint-by-number replica of a Renaissance masterpiece. Tohma shook his head and looked back out towards the garden. "You make a good dragon, Tohma. I wish you'd be a happy dragon, instead of a sad one. Don't you like the party I made for you? Even Mika-san dressed up. Though, all those black veils look kinda spooky. Maybe she's planning on being your widow before the night is out."  
  
They both laughed at this, though I am not exactly sure why Mika wanting to be a widow was funny.  
  
"It's a wonderful party, Ryuichi-san. It's just that..." Tohma reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose before forcing yet another smile. "Someone I wanted to come...didn't show."  
  
"But, so many people are here. So many of your friends! We all want to see Tohma-Tohma's happy shiny face. Please don't be sad..." Ryuichi sniffled a little and threw his arms around Tohma, squishing me between them in the process. "I just wanted to make Tohma happy again."  
  
"I know. I...thank you, Ryuichi-san." Tohma leaned his head against Ryuichi's and sighed. Something wet fell on my ear and was immediately absorbed along with so much of Ryuichi's drool. "I just... I was hoping that..."  
  
"You were hoping that tonight was the night when fairy tales came true."  
  
Tohma's chest quaked against me. A sob? A laugh? I do not know which of these it was. But, then I heard him whisper, "Will you sing for me, Ryuichi? You sing. I'll listen. That always cheers us both up, right?"  
  
"Of course!" Ryuichi exclaimed. Like a tsunami, he dragged Tohma back into the house by his wrist and ran over to the makeshift stage. Oh, everyone has sung tonight. Bad Luck. ASK. All the great NG bands. I got shoved into Shuichi's arms as Ryuichi bopped around, looking for the microphone that was, frankly, right in front of his face.  
  
No brains. None at all.  
  
I looked up at Shuichi and nodded at his shiny pink hair, which reminded me greatly of my box of fairy wings back home. "So, which of the fairies made you?" I asked. But, of course, he didn't pay the slightest bit of attention to my question.  
  
"Hey Noriko," Shuichi said as he sat down on a bar stool next to the purple haired faux-fairy. "Sakuma-san is going to sing for Seguchi-san. Check it out!"  
  
Noriko shook her head. "No thanks. I've seen it." She flagged down the bartender and ordered a scotch.  
  
"Huh?" Shuichi scratched his head. If I could, I would have scratched –my- head.  
  
And Noriko just looked at her drink.  
  
"I've seen the way that Ryuichi looks at Tohma while he sings."

* * *

"I saw the way Ryuichi looked at him when he sang," Needle told her friend, the Moon. "He kept trying to tell the Dragon King with his songs, kept trying to tell him how much he loved him. But, the Dragon King could only see the illusions Ryuichi wove. The lonelier and more despondent Ferocious Black became, the more he wanted what he couldn't have, the harder Ryuichi tried to tell him that he could have what was right in front of his face. The little clockwork boy had fallen in love with the Dragon King. And the Dragon King was still blind, even though he believed he could see."  
  
"That's so sad," The Moon replied, "I feel that I might just weep."  
  
And, Tragedy the Muse, perched nearby on the North Star, removed one of her veils and handed it to the Moon. "Use this to dry your eyes."  
  
Right then, a balloon floated up to the skies from the land of Men, containing a message from Needle's last creation, Kumagoro. "I want to come home. I want to be among the people who love me. I want to live in the Magical World where beauty is given freely, where wonder is as common as rain, and love isn't hard to find...if you just open your eyes."  
  
Needle took Tragedy's veil from the Moon Goddess and sewed her answer into it using silver thread. When she twisted the veil, the Moon's tears, now rain, fell back to Earth containing Needle's answer:  
  
"Then you are already home."

* * *

Thank you for reading "Affairs of the Inanimate". I believe this story has come to an end. I hope you liked this final chapter, even if it was a bit different. I wanted to portray the most obvious object....Kumagoro...in a completely different light than others had portrayed him before. I think I have succeeded. Of course, in this story, Kumagoro is the Dragon King, but so is Tohma....in a strange parallel of fate. And, in fact, if you believe Kumagoro...Ryuichi is no more than a clockwork boy...and therefore, an inanimate object, himself. I suppose this chapter really should have been it's own story, but I like it for a big finish.  
  
Thank you, indeed, to all of my reviewers, including: Chu, Aja, aria, Patosan, meepu, Hitomi, Melissa, AkaTsuki, bisexual pygmie, Rula, Clarichan, osaeruyume, Flamingolo, the Harechan, cdg, Obscured Illusions, DemonandGoddess, Thou, firedraygon97, KageKitsune16, KagomeUndomiel, Yma, Lady Insomnia, Aibyouka, Pocketfirefairy, Rinoki Rio, trickynimegurl , Veleda, Renet, A. Krisis, Dark Shuichi, xpyne!, Speller-Sama, morbidbunny4, Happy Utena-Loving Yuki, Shimizu Hitomi, StarryEyedChick, and hopemia.  
  
And, of course, as always I want to thank the hosts of gurabite and the great people of gravi-muse-meet. Without you, I doubt I could continue.  
  
If you are reading this at gurabite, and wish to converse, please contact me at my livejournal, which is under the username "angrybee" or by AIM at the screen name listed in my livejournal profile. 


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